One Story at a Time

I'm a very linear writer. I know that some authors write their books as individual scenes, possibly out of narrative order, and then string them together to make a book. That's almost impossible for me to imagine. When I write a book, I start at the beginning and move step by step to the end. I'll often have fairly clear ideas about how the story will develop - I may even have a scene list - but at least ninety percent of the time the sequence in which I write chapters is the sequence in which they'll appear in the final book.

When it comes to multiple books, I'm the same way - linear rather than multifurcated. Many of my author friends work on several projects simultaneously. They tell me that this allows them to switch to a different story when they get stuck on the current one. This makes sense - but I can't seem to do it. My natural mode of operation seems to be one project at a time. Occasionally I'll interrupt work on a longer book to bang out a short story for an anthology that has an urgent deadline, but I've never had two active book-length projects going on at the same time.

This is actually rather limiting. Because it's not at all uncommon for me to get ideas for new stories while I'm in the midst of my current WIP. I'll get all excited - but I can't quite bring myself to halt work on the story at hand in order to dive into my latest idea. I've learned over time that in this circumstance, it's critical for me to make detailed notes about the new idea, while it's fresh in my mind. This often includes snippets of dialogue or an opening line. Then I'll put the idea aside until I'm done with the book that's my current focus.

Sometimes the new ideas grow cold by the time I get around to trying them out. Sometimes there may be a gap of years between the time I first come up with a story premise and the time I start working on it. I have to live with these consequences.

Maybe some authors who are reading this envy me. I have friends who complain about having too many ideas, too many concurrent projects, so that they can't focus on any of them. I can see that this would be a problem - a different sort from mine.

In any case, I've learned that you can't really fight your own natural approach to writing. That's one reason why new authors shouldn't pay too much attention when someone tells you how you should approach the process. You have to find what works for you. And you may find that your process changes over time. However, you really can't force it - or at least, that's what I believe.

So for now, I'll just have to be content with my own obsessive-compulsive approach to writing and produce one story at a time. I just finished an erotic noir novella and sent it off to my crit partner. Now I've started working on my multi-genre extravaganza Rajastani Moon - my attempt to write a book that incorporates steampunk, Bollywood, menage, shapeshifter, Rubenesque and BDSM elements - and maybe I forgot one or two genres there...! I'm having great fun (it's a huge relief after the darkness of Bangkok Noir).

And what comes after that? I'm not 100% sure but I have an idea for a new BDSM novel. I don't want to plan too far ahead, though. Right now, my plate is full!

I'm Award Winning!

Just got the news that D.L. King's steam punk erotica collection Carnal Machines won the gold medal in the erotica category of the Independent Publisher 2012 book awards. This is a HUGE honor - a competition judged by professionals, not a popularity contest like some awards.  An absolutely sensational collection, Carnal Machines includes my story, "Her Own Devices".

Here's the blurb for my tale.

Lin Xiao Chung, lovely slave of Hong Kong whoremaster Fang Wu, pays a midnight visit to the infamous Christopher Burton, legendary entrepreneur, explorer, inventor and rake. Since fleeing England in disgrace, Burton has set himself up in the brothel business, using his engineering genius to create sex machines that threaten Fang Fu's business empire. Lin's mission is to thwart Burton - any way she can. But Christopher Burton has more than one trick up his sleeve and Lin soon finds that the foreign devil has salacious secrets she never expected.

Want an excerpt? Just click here!  And to buy your own copy? Go to Amazon or your favorite local bookstore.

In addition to my story, the book includes fantastic contributions by authors you'll recognize, as well as incredibly talented newcomers. Check it out today!

A Midsummer Night's Snog

  Today's the beginning of Victoria Blisse's Spring Fling Snog festival. I couldn't seem to find a kiss from the spring time, but here's one from Midsummer's Eve, from my M/M/F historical romp Shortest Night. 

The year is 1595 in the reign of Good Queen Bess. Stage-struck, young Ben Hastings leaves his father's farm for London, to join Will Shakepeare's band of players. Hugh Templeton, the handsome leading man, takes the the innocent lad under his wing, but Ben soon discovers that Hugh wants more than just friendship. Meanwhile a savvy tavern maid named Jenny engineers a comedy of errors to save Ben from Hugh's lewd embrace and win him for her own. 

I'm giving away a copy of Brits in Time, the anthology where this was first published, to one lucky person who leaves a comment. Don't forget to include your email address so I can find you if I win.

And after you've had your fun here - hop on over to Victoria's for more seasonal snogging!

His sharp ears picked up a sound on the ascending path. Hugh! Sudden panic gripped him. He wanted to run, to hide himself away from the arch, knowing gaze of his would-be ravisher. He couldn’t bear to see himself the way Hugh saw him, as a tender morsel of flesh waiting to be consumed. But why should he think so ill of Hugh? Hugh loved him, he had sworn it, and vowed to prove his love with the worship of his body. This was just nervousness…

Ben had promised. He wouldn’t fail so stalwart a friend, though it cost him dearly. He stood his ground, waiting for the older man to emerge from the brush.

When a masculine figure finally appeared, Ben’s confusion reached a crisis. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. It must be a trick of the moonlight, for the man facing him across the grassy space seemed to be much shorter than Hugh, and fair rather than dark.

“Hugh?”

“Nay, Master Templeton has had second thoughts.” The voice was young, high and clear, and somehow familiar. “He has seen the error in his ways—preying on innocent, susceptible virgins, enjoying their unsullied flesh, robbing them of their dignity and then leaving them, corrupted and broken.”

“But Hugh wouldn’t…”

“Are you so sure? You should perhaps talk to some of the other lads who have played the ladies in Master Will’s tales. But then, they do not tend to stay long with the Company, after Hugh Templeton is finished with them.”

Ben recalled the twist in Hugh’s smile, the urgency of the older man’s desire, the way that Ben had pleaded for respite when the man tried to force his dick into Ben’s bum. Could it be true?

“Who are you, then? Did Hugh send you in his stead?”

The youth gave a low, throaty laugh. “You mean to bugger you? Well, that’s a thought. But no, I’m your true friend, someone who’ll love you and support you and stand beside you while you reach for your heart’s desire.”

“My friend? But I don’t know you.”

“Do you not? Let me help refresh your memory.” The young man began unlacing his points. His hose slipped over his hips and down to the ground. Ben peered into the night, trying despite himself to see the lad’s privates, to see if he was as hard as Ben was, with all this talk of corruption and buggering. However, the boy’s groin was shadowed by his overhanging shirt.

Meanwhile, the figure across from him pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it away. Finally, the intruder reached behind his neck and untied his hair. Long golden ringlets spilled over the figure’s pale, bare shoulders and tumbled between gently swelling breasts.

Ben felt dizzy as his senses realigned. An instant before, he had been talking to a confident young fellow with a sharp tongue. Now, all at once, he was facing a girl in her late teens—a naked girl with a self-satisfied smile on her pretty face.

He remembered his dreams. “Jenny!”

Before he knew what was happening, she stood before him, looking up into his eyes. “I told you we’d meet again, Ben. It’s fate.” She brushed her body against his. Her rigid nipples tickled his chest through his linen shirt. His already-swollen cock jumped, grazing her belly. She slipped her small, cool hand inside his garment and grasped him firmly. He groaned. “Let me show you what this is meant for, and then you can decide whether you’d rather have Templeton, or me.”

“But how came you here? Hugh wrote that he’d meet me…” All at once Ben understood. “You were the messenger boy!”

Jenny nodded. “Though if you’d rather believe it a spell, I’ll not gainsay you. For truly, I think that you and I can make some magic together.”

She pulled his mouth down to hers. Her lips were velvety petals pressed against his, wonderfully soft but cloaking a firmness Ben craved. Her tongue played around his mouth, teasing. He relaxed and let the kiss develop into a hot, wet union that left him breathless.

She tasted of ale and almonds. Her complex scent rose into his nostrils, musk and rosewater, lye, sweat and the slightest hint of manure. As they kissed, she continued to stroke and squeeze his poor swollen penis, building the pleasure and the pressure until he worried that he’d spend all over her hand.

“Wait!” he gasped, breaking the kiss. “Let me undress.”

“A fine idea, Master Ben. Shall I help you?”

“No, no, I can manage.” He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders, then started unlacing his points. His rigid cock made it difficult to get off his hose. This cheeky young woman left him embarrassed and flustered but, at least, as randy as Hugh had made him.

The maid lay down in the lush grass, her head propped up on one elbow, and watched him disrobe. The pose gave her an elegance and a grace that Ben hadn’t previously noticed. His eyes followed the luscious curve of her hip, gleaming in the moonlight. Her breasts seemed fuller in this position, creamy hemispheres of succulent flesh crowned by ruddy tips. Her blonde locks trailed over her shoulders. He could just make out a matching tangle of gold at the juncture of her thighs. His cock swelled further, though he would not have believed it possible, pointing straight up at the drifting moon.

Jenny patted the ground beside her. “Come here, sweet boy.” Ben did not wait for a second invitation.

Handle with Care

I've got a little snippet for you today from Handle with Care by Josephine Myles. Enjoy!

~ Lisabet

Released by Samhain Publishing: 24^th April 2012

Blurb:

The best things in life aren’t free…they’re freely given.

Ben Lethbridge doesn’t have many vices left. After raising his little sister to adulthood, he wasted no time making up for the youth he lost to responsible parenting. Two years of partying it up—and ignoring his diabetes—has left him tethered to a home dialysis regimen.

He can do his job from his flat, fortunately, but most of his favourite things are forbidden. Except for DVD porn…and fantasizing over Ollie, the gorgeous, purple-haired skateboarder who delivers it.

Their banter is the highlight of Ben’s lonely day, but his illness-ravaged body is the cruel reality that prevents him from believing they’ll do anything more than flirt. Not to mention the age gap. Still, Ben figures there’s no harm in sprucing himself up a bit.

Then one day, a package accidentally splits open, revealing Ben’s dirty little secret…and an unexpected connection that leaves him wondering if he’s been reading Ollie wrong all this time. There’s only one way to find out: risk showing Ollie every last scar. And hope “far from perfect” is good enough for a chance at love.

Warning: Contains superhero porn comics and a cute, accident-prone delivery guy with colour-changing hair. Readers may experience coffee cravings, an unexpected liking for bad mullets, and the urge to wrap Ollie up and take him home.

Buy links:

Kindle US | Kindle UK | Samhain

Excerpt:

“Hey there,” Ollie said when I opened the door, that million-watt grin lighting up his face again. “Like the hair. Got another one of these for you.”

“Thanks.” I tried to kick-start my mouth into saying something interesting, but it refused to cooperate and decided it wanted to dry out instead. I suppose it was slightly less embarrassing than drooling over him. In an effort not to stare, I forced my gaze away and fixed it on the front garden next door. There was only a low, brick wall separating my spartan, gravel driveway with Mrs. Felpersham’s garden, but it was like another world over there. She’d crammed it full of blowsy pink flowers, a wooden wishing well and more garden gnomes than you could shake a stick at. Those gnomes always gave me the heebie-jeebies, but at least there were plenty to keep my eyes occupied at times like this.

“Oh, sweet! I’ve got that exact same T-shirt! ’Course, mine’s a bit smaller.” Ollie started bouncing up and down on his heels, and I wanted to lick him all over, he looked so appealing. At that thought, despite being full of dialysate, I felt my cock starting to stir. It’s a good thing I was in the XXX-Large version of the Wolverine shirt. Still, I leant forward a little just to make sure nothing showed.

My mind got stuck on the idea of how much I wanted to see him in that T-shirt and then out of it. I started to worry that I was going to blurt it out by accident, so I kept my mouth firmly shut. I must have looked like a right stuck-up twat. Didn’t seem to bother Ollie, though.

“I should bring some of those comics round for you to read. It would be good to have someone to chat about them with. Most of my other friends think I’m nuts, you know?”

What? Other friends? Did that mean he considered me a friend? We’d only known each other for a few weeks. I realised I needed to speak, and fast, if I wasn’t to make a terrible impression and get struck off that friends list.

“Yeah, uh, great. I mean, I’d like that, if you don’t mind lending your stuff to a stranger.” Great. Now I’d called myself a stranger when he was trying to be friendly.

“Nah, it’s cool. I know where you live, after all.” He gave me another huge grin that made his cheeks dimple. It really wasn’t fair. No one should be allowed to be that cute.

Author Bio:

English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.

Jo’s website: http://josephinemyles.com/ Email: josephine_myles@yahoo.co.uk Blog: http://josephinemyles.com/blog/ Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/josephine.myles Twitter: @JosephineMyles

REVIEW: Playing Dead

PLAYING DEAD by Robert Buckley

Coming Together Tabooty Series, 2012

If you've read any of Robert Buckley's erotic fiction, you'll know that he's a dedicated proponent of the sexual creed, “Anything goes – as long as it's consensual”. That philosophy is stretched to the limit in Mr. Buckley's amusing and arousing Tabooty tale, Playing Dead.

Mike Garner's a former investigative journalist who loses his job when a sleazeball media mogul buys his rag. To make ends meet, Mike signs on with his former colleague Zeke (who quit the paper day the change of ownership was announced) working as a driver for Zeke's limo service. Zeke's business is booming. He provides discreet, customized transportation to individuals with unusual sexual desires, taking them to safe locations where they can indulge their fantasies. Mike ends up carting around adult infants, furries, rubber duckies, “schoolgirls” headed for an encounter with their “headmasters”, willing cuckolds, Druids – pretty much every kink imaginable. His tolerance nearly snaps, though, on the night he and Zeke are called to drive a refrigerated hearse full of what appear to be dead bodies.

I don't want to spoil the fun by revealing how the plot works out, though I guess I can share the fact that the evil tycoon and his female sidekick get what they deserve and Mike discovers that even the oddest fetishes can be a turn on under the right conditions.

Playing Dead is plenty sexy, but the real payoff in this story is Mr. Buckley's brilliant dialogue and arch social commentary. If you're familiar with his work, you know you can expect a wry laugh or two along with the bonking. If not – well, you're in for a treat.

All proceeds from the Tabooty series benefit the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom, an organization that works for acceptance of alternative sexual lifestyles such as BDSM and polyamory. It's difficult to imagine a more appropriate beneficiary for Playing Dead.

Moving Out of Your Comfort Zone

By Maggie Nash (Guest Blogger)

 

Imagine a life without any surprises. Each day runs a similar routine. We don’t feel the need to challenge our beliefs, or take chances.

It’s an interesting part of humanity where many of us don’t like change. Trundling along in life with a familiar routine doing the same things, reading the same books and eating the same foods gives us comfort. On the other hand, change makes us uneasy. We feel unsettled and stressed, even if we are embracing the changes we are making.

It’s amazing in just how many ways we cling to the concept of comfort. Take this for instance - how many of you always use the same cubicle in the bathroom at work? You’d be surprised to hear that a very high percentage of us always use the same one.

Raises hand - second one on the left for me!

How boring is that? So what does it take to move out of that comfort zone?

As a writer I’ve been challenged to make different choices many times, and to be honest, sometimes it’s pretty scary. Take writing sex scenes for instance.

When I first started writing I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to write about. My favourite books to read were romantic suspense, so that’s what I wrote. I wrote this exciting tale of adventure. It was a roller coaster with all the boxes ticked, or so I thought. There was a woman in jeopardy with a hunky hero who charges in to save her from the evil villain. I thought I’d nailed it but I was wrong. What I completely missed in my first drafts was that sexual energy that raises the stakes in the both the growth of the relationship, and tension of the story. One of my crit partners sent my manuscript back to me with one word emblazoned on dozens of pages. MORE!

So how to do that? I needed to move the characters to the next level, and that included shaking them up. I added a scene from a strip club where my heroine witnesses a scene her privileged upbringing would never have shown her. I made her fidget and not know where to look, but still be unable to look away. I raised her heartbeat. I made her sweat. I blasted her out of her comfort zone, and at the end of that scene she wasn’t the same person she had been before it began.

Writing that scene was a big watershed moment for me. It was the prelude to my first sex scene. The heroine wasn’t the only one changed by it. I realised I needed to continue to move up the relationship and they needed to have smoking hot monkey sex.

Holy cr*p.

I’d never written a sex scene before, even though I’d read hundreds of them so this was totally taking me to a different place. I went to Catholic school. Nuns. Church. Confession and guilt. This was naughty!

So in my usual cautious way I planned for it. No one else was at home. I lit several scented candles, poured myself a long glass of chilled wine, and played the epitome of schmaltzy romantic music – yes, you guessed it – Ravel’s Bolero. Then I sat down and wrote it.

Like my heroine, I felt anxious, uncomfortable, my heart rate rose and I started sweating. I too smashed my way out of my comfort zone. And you know what? It felt wonderful and I’ve never looked back.

So at the end of the day it’s not that difficult to move out of your comfort zone. You might not be writing a major sex scene. It could be something as simple as changing your routine and making a different choice. Just do it. The rewards are amazing.

For a chance to win an eBook copy of my erotic action/adventure story THE RELIC tell us what you’ve done lately to take you out of your comfort zone!

About Maggie

I’m Maggie Nash and I write romance novels. Some of them are suspenseful, some are pretty hot, and some of them are a little bit kinky, but what they all have in common is a fun, romantic ending. I started writing more by accident than design when one day I ran out of books to read so I started writing one myself. And, boy, am I glad I did, because writing has become a huge part of my life. I live with my family on the beautiful south coast of New South Wales in Australia. You can find me most days having a cappuccino at the beach!

Website - Twitter – Facebook – Blog

The Scariest Thing

What scares you more than anything else? Vampires? Zombies? Nuclear holocaust? Your mother-in-law?

How about the prospect of NO INTERNET?

Horrible thought, isn't it? No news. No email. No blogs. No YouTube. No checking Wikipedia to win that bet with your DH. No impulse purchases of some ebook you just saw praised on Goodreads.

Think about what it means to an author like me, though. I don't get to see who has commented on my blog posts. I can't see if I've gotten any response to my submissions. I don't know if anyone has sent me stories for my own anthology. I can't do promo, or research. Yes, I can write - but if I need to look up some obscure fact, or find a picture of some BDSM implement... well, I'm out of luck.

That's been my situation for the past five days. Our ADSL service has been down, and we can't seem to get our provider to do anything about it.

Now wait a minute, you may be thinking. If she doesn't have any Internet connectivity, how is she writing this blog?

Well, we've found a stop-gap measure, connecting via the slow and somewhat flaky GPRS cell phone protocol. My brilliant geek husband figured out how to share a GPRS connection among our different computers, so that we both can do at least a minimum amount of work on the 'Net. But oh! it's pretty painful.

Not that I mean to complain. I'm desperately grateful to have any connectivity at all! It does scare me, though, to see how dependent I've become. Years ago I swore I'd never get to the point where I couldn't live without the Internet. Alas, I haven't been able to keep that vow (although in all fairness, that was before ebooks, emarketing, social networks and so on...)

Needless to say, we're royally pissed with our current Internet provider after this debacle and we're actively looking to switch.

Meanwhile, if I'm not responding as quickly as usual to email or comments - if I seem less present in the cybersphere - you'll know why!

Speaking of the cybersphere, though, I do have a blog post up at the Eternal Press blog and I'm giving away a free book of BDSM erotica.  For details, just go to:

http://eternalpressauthors.blogspot.com/2012/05/interlude-on-mulholland-drive.html


I'll check in when I can!